Travis took my hand, and we quickly and quietly made our way around the back of the building.
“No,” I said, staring at the open basement window.
Travis had already backed in and jumped down before I could protest further.
“C’mon, Pigeon!”
Snow was still on the ground. I was going to be wet and cold and instantly cranky. “No way!”
Travis’s hand shot out from the darkness of the basement like a cat reaching out from under a door. “It’ll be like old times!”
“Not just no, Travis. Hell no.”
“It’s getting lonely down here.”
“This is a horrible idea.”
“You’re messing up my plan!”
“You’re insane! This isn’t even my dress, and you’re asking me to ruin it!”
“It’s a little early in the night for that.”
I could almost hear him trying not to laugh. I crossed my arms. After a long pause, Travis’s voice, low and desperate, floated up from the window. “Please?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
Two backwards scoots, a squeal, and a fall later, I was in Travis’s arms in the basement of Bartlen---the building where we met for the first time.
Travis used his cell phone to light the way, and I followed him down a series of hallways. Finally one of the halls opened up into a large, familiar room. Without the yelling and drunken frat boys shoulder to shoulder, it seemed bigger, and less … sweaty.
I could almost hear Adam’s voice blaring through the bullhorn, and feel the way the energy exploded once Travis entered the room. I thought about the blood spraying my cardigan, and my eyes leaving the cashmere to fall on a pair of black boots.
Travis pulled me to the center of the room. The memory of him wiping the blood from my face and pushing away anyone who came near me replayed in my mind.
“Pigeon,” Travis said, almost the same time as he said the word in my memory.
“This is where it all started.”
“Where I saw you for the first time. When you turned my whole f**king world upside down.” He leaned down to kiss my cheek, and then he handed me a small box. “It’s not much. I’ve been saving for it, though.”
I opened it, and a wide, ridiculous grin spread across my face. It was a charm bracelet.
“It’s the story of us,” he said.
A sweater, a pair of dice, a green bead with shamrocks on it. I looked to Travis.
“That’s supposed to signify our bet,” he said, pointing to the dice, “and that one is for the first night we danced,” he said, pointing to a red bead.
The next charm was a motorcycle; the next a heart. “For the first time I said I loved you?”
“Yep.” He seemed pleased that I’d figured it out on my own.
“And this one?” I said, pointing to a deck of cards. “Poker night at dad’s?”
Travis smiled again. The next was a turkey, and I laughed. The next bead was plain black.
“For the time we spent apart. The darkest time of my life.”
The next was a flame charm. I didn’t like to think about the fire, but it was a part of our story, and so it was a part of us. The next charm was a ring.
I looked up at him. “This is pretty amazing.”
“There’s room for more. These are just the beginning of our story, Pidge.”
I put the bracelet around my wrist. Travis helped with the clasp, and then he fiddled with his phone for a moment, setting it on a small table a few feet away. He placed my hands on his shoulders, and then the music began to play. It was the song we danced to at my birthday party the year before.
“I had no idea,” I said.
“What?”
“That you were so sentimental.”
“Yes you did.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder, happy that this time I could kiss him when the song was over. Once the music stopped and I touched my lips to his, I handed him a plain, red sack. “I should have given you this first. The bracelet is a hard act to follow.”
“It doesn’t matter what it is, Pigeon. You’ve already given me everything I’ve ever wanted.”